


...Whoops.

by MissFantominaHill



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Guro, M/M, but comedy guro, don't worry boys, funny though., i'm sure some duct tape'll fix it, not particularly sexy, the sort of guro one would find in an oglaf comic, unfortunate realities of being undead, very bad but i will not apologise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:20:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissFantominaHill/pseuds/MissFantominaHill
Summary: Koltira and Thassarian were trying to just sneak away for a quickie, honestly... Unfortunately, haste has a habit of producing mistakes when you run roughshod.
Relationships: Koltira Deathweaver/Thassarian
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	...Whoops.

It was probably more obvious than either of them would like, but Koltira and Thassarian's truce in the Plaguelands came with obvious benefits. And those benefits were mainly 'an excuse to slip away for fifteen minutes behind a half-ruined building in Andorhal'. It wasn't like there was time for much more, but they were both fairly used to how this went - shimmying down chainmail pants, unbuckling codpieces, each other's fingers. 

Koltira had, graciously, allowed Thassarian to go first - and the once-human death knight was already having to lean against the wall, jelly-kneed, glowing eyes half-rolled back in his head. “Keep going, keep going -” he grunted out, voice low and commanding as his hips bucked in Koltira’s grip. He was close, so close, and - The sound of something snapping.

“Uh,” Koltira warbled out, the awkward stutter of a man who has no idea how to break some bad news.

Thassarian blearily focused, mind maddeningly buzzing, full of heat and lust, to look at what Koltira was holding. Oddly, it didn’t really make the heady, swimming sensation of close-but-not-quite-to-orgasm fade, even as he panted out the only thing appropriate.

“What,” Thassarian bleated, “the fuck?”, as he looked at Koltira nervously holding his cock, quite separated from the rest of him. Undeath was like that. Lose your own head if it wasn’t attached. And sometimes even still. 

“It’s fine!” Koltira said quickly, flailing. “It’s fine! It’s fixable, I mean, it’s all in one piece - and I know this guy in the Undercity who -”

The former-human interrupted the former-elf. “The UNDERCITY?”

Koltira huffed, waving his hands for emphasis. “Well, where would YOU rather go? Think someone’s up to dealing with this in STORMWIND?”

Thassarian considered this, even as he gently reached out to push down Koltira’s hand, where he had been brandishing Thassarian’s cock for emphasis. 

“That DOESN’T,” Thassarian said in a tone more flustered than stern (though he was trying his best to be properly upset about recent decocking), “fix my CURRENT problem, though.” Koltira frowned, looking indeed quite sympathetic. An awkward silence followed. Somewhere in the distance, an undead abomination gurgled, followed by a flitter of annoying birdsong.

Thassarian panted huffily, his tattooed face still darkly flushed ice-blue, as Koltira gently tapped his chin (with Thassarian’s dismembered member) in thought. “Well,” the former-elf proposed, “Could always try prostate milking? I mean - heard good things about it, and it could work…”

“Fine,” Thassarian said quickly, already shimmying out of his leggings before he reached out to catch Koltira’s shoulder and look at him. “Though…" Thassarian nailed Koltira with an exasperated glare that only a man stuck on the cusp of orgasm could manage. ”…Take off your gauntlets, before? PLEASE?“

"Oh, right!” Koltira said with absentminded cheerfulness, starting to undo the buckles on his plate glove. “Or, rather, ah - whatever is your desire, Thassarian - you need only ask…”


End file.
